A Peaceful Place
by VivaAmor
Summary: The perspective is aimed on Castiel as he steps away from the madness and drama of the Winchester brothers for a while, much in need of a reminder as to why he's fighting so hard against his angelic family. One-shot. Full cover photo manipulation done by me w/ all rights reserved can be linked to upon PM.


Behind the wall of a viewing dock on the side of Charles opposite to Boston he stood, wings outstretched at his sides. This was the closest to his true visage he could get without appearing in his divine form, this was the form with silky black wings that Dean and Sam had yet to see, and Castiel often preferred it that way. Though, he thought, perhaps they would show him more of his deserved respect if they were reminded of what he was, and what they were in comparison… He pressed his lips together in a firm line and looked down, shaking his head ever so slightly. This was not what he was here to think about; he was not here to feel sorry for himself.

Smoky gray eyes appeared deeper and more mysterious than the water they stared across, the gears in his head running a thousand miles an hour. Though he was troubled even now, this was one of his favorite places to be. And while it seemed strange, this dirty cement slab with an old brick wall blocking him from the water being a preferred spot of an angel, the location always seemed to remind him what he fought for. It reminded him of the part of humanity worth saving, the reason he did not stand with his very brothers in heaven.

In 1857 he stood in this very place, unseen by any human eyes who walked past. It was by chance, of course, but he appeared facing the river where an old homeless man lived. He was unclothed aside from an old wool coat and was sickly with no hair on his head and a long straggly beard, a human being that all others would try hard to avoid crossing paths with. Castiel, too, thought he looked unworthy for others to dwell with. But then he witnessed something that made him change his mind entirely.

A soft mewing broke the nighttime silence, followed by a splash of water just below the bridge. The homeless man, curled in a ball several yards from the water, lifted his head and noticed the miserable ball of wet fur that struggled in the water. Castiel was sure that he would turn away or go back about his business, but the man ran into in the water and swam clumsily to retrieve the small animal. When he brought back the frozen, soaking cat he wrapped it in his coat and spoke soft words to it while rocking it gently, clearing its nose and mouth of water with the corner of his jacket. He tried to share what little food he had with the animal, though it shivered and turned its nose from it, and the homeless man continued to try to warm it while watching it with hopeful, watery eyes.

The kitten passed an hour later, though it felt like just moments to Castiel. The man hadn't realized it for a few minutes, but when he did, he shed a tear for the animal and stood with it still wrapped in his jacket. He placed the kitten inside of a paper bag he stumbled upon and then walked to an area where the grass was thick and lush quite a distance from the water. With grimy fingers he pulled the grass away and dug into the dirt slightly, just enough to place the lifeless wrapped animal halfway inside. He put dirt back on top of the bag and then parted the grass over it, staring at it for a moment longer before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket and moving down the marina on his way.

No one else would ever know that this man had tried to save a life, nor would anyone ever see the genuine tears he shed for the animal. But Castiel did. He saw a man who had nothing to offer give his warmth and a scrap of food to an animal that had nothing to give in return. And it was men like that whom Castiel would strive to save, to redeem in the name of his Lord. Not the wicked ones who cursed and raped and killed, nor the liars and deceivers who saw no fault within themselves, but the ones that still had their humanity in tact no matter what they endured.

Castiel kept no track of that man, but knew he had passed by now. Still, he could look out on the waters and see the bridge the animal fell off of, the place where the man spoke to and cradled the soaking cat, and the area where he attempted to bury it, not far off from where Cas stood now. This was why he was still fighting, he told himself. So why did it still seem so hard?

His wings folded and stretched again at his sides, expression still absolutely blank. He would have to return to the Winchesters at some point, he wasn't oblivious to that. But with Sam's misdirection and Dean's snide comments, Castiel thought he deserved a few moments away from the madness. A few moments where he was not fighting a war in heaven, nor fighting one with himself, and when he knew that Dean or Sam or Bobby would not pray for him to come. They knew he was upset the moment he disappeared from the room they were arguing in, leaving nothing but the soft brush of a paper knocked off a table and onto the ground. And they'd stay quiet until Cas returned on his own, or until they needed his help.

But for now, he'd look out to the murky water and allow himself the moments of rest that he was sure he deserved.


End file.
